J.B. Spins

Jazz, film, and improvised culture.

Monday, February 29, 2016

Of Mind and Music: A NOLA Street Musician’s Tale

In many respects, the case of Una Vida (“the
Queen of Royal Street”) is not so different from those chronicled in the
documentary Alive Inside. Although
she suffers from Alzheimer’s, music seems to awaken her memories and offers a
means to relate to the outside world, at least to some extent. However, the
standards she sings are also intertwined in her head with a profound trauma from
decades past. A grieving neuroscientist will be drawn to the vocalist and her
blues guitarist protector in Richie Adams’ Of Mind and Music,which
opens this Friday in Los Angeles.

Much like Dr. Nicholas Bazan, the author of
the film’s source novel, Dr. Alvaro Cruz is an Argentine polyglot neuroscientist
specializing in Alzheimer’s. He is also a New Orleanian through and through
when it comes to music and cuisine. Plagued with guilt when his Alzheimer’s-stricken
mother dies while he is attending an international conference, he seeks solace
in the muffaletttas of the Central Avenue Grocery and the sounds of Frenchmen
Street. At such old school NOLA locales, he regularly encounters Una Vida and
her guitar accompanist, Stompleg. He can tell she suffers from some form of
neurological dementia, but the lyrics of the “gold old good ones” keep her
somewhat tethered and focused.

Dr. Cruz quickly develops an easy rapport with
Stompleg and Una Vida finds him pleasant enough, even though she can’t necessarily
remember him from one day to the next. However, her junkie former minder
Jessica is instantly suspicious of the doctor and jealous of the connection he
might be slowly forging with the withdrawn Una Vida. Nevertheless, she will
need his help when Stompleg is accepted by an out-of-state assisted living
residency for legit blues artists.

Clearly, Mind
means well so ardently it practically aches with good intentions.
Fortunately, it also has an intimate familiarity with New Orleans, which helps
ground the picture and gives it the ring of authenticity. The somewhat pivot
role played by the Louisiana Music Factory earns it multiple bonus points. You could
actually go to a lot of the locations in Mind—in
fact, you really should.

Although he is probably still best known for
playing Bucho in Desperado and Ramon
Salazar in 24, Portuguese-born
Joaquim de Almeida is wonderfully earthy as Dr. Cruz. Quantico’s Aunjanue Ellis is mostly convincing and often quite
compelling as the tragic Una Vida, but it is Bill Cobbs who really lowers the
emotional boom as Stompleg. Frankly, he does award-worthy work, but he gets a
key assist from John Fohl, who dubs Stompleg’s blues guitar. Their rendition of
“Will the Circle Be Unbroken” heard over the closing credits is eerily haunting.
Similarly, Mykia Jovan supplies the deeply soulful vocals of Una Vida.
Unfortunately, Sharon Lawrence (from NYPD
Blue) is mainly stuck watching the drama from the sidelines as Cruz’s eternally
patient wife Angela.

Strangely, the
incidental soundtrack is not very jazz or blues, but the inclusion of bandoneon
and clarinet gives it a touch of Louisiana flavoring, while also evoking Dr. Cruz’s
Argentine roots. Of course, you cannot get anymore legit than Kermit Ruffins
and Jon Cleary who briefly appear as themselves. While Adams does not always
skirt every potentially melodramatic pitfall cleanly, the cast and the music
always propel the film forward. Recommended as a valentine to the Crescent City
and a realistic portrayal of the challenges of Alzheimer’s, Of Mind and Music opens this Friday
(3/4) at the Laemmle Music Hall in Los Angeles.

The Wave: Norway Gets Disastrous

If you have read Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, you know this is all
Slartbartfast’s fault. He to delight in designing Norway’s fjords.
Unfortunately, they are ticking time-bombs. Eventually, a seismic shift will
lead to a rock slide and that will inevitably cause a tidal wave. That day is
now in Roar Uthaug’s The Wave (trailer here),which opens this Friday in New York.

This is supposed to be the aptly-named
geologist Kristian Eikfjord’s last day working for the Geiranger warning
station, so you know the coast is toast. Just when he has the kids all packed up
in the car, his Spidey sense starts tingling. His wife Idun was supposed to
join them later after working through the tourist season at town’s luxury
hotel, but when her husband gets sidetracked by a potential tsunami-style catastrophe
(evidently, it happened before in 1934), she fixes up their teen-aged son
Sondre (yes, he’s a guy) with a room instead. However, the geologist and their
young daughter Julia opt to camp out in their former home for old times’ sake.
As a result, the family will be separated when the mega-wave hits.

Of course, by the time the dreaded wave
starts, it is already too late. Eikfjord the alarmist was ready to evacuate
twelve hours ago, so it is a little hard to figure why he stuck around.
Regardless, the good residents of Geiranger will only have ten minutes to reach
high ground when the station finally sounds the alarm. No, that is really not
enough time, especially when the moody Sondre is skateboarding in the basement
with headphones cranked up to eleven.

When the actual wave comes in, Uthaug’s
devastation is as good as anything Hollywood has produced. Not surprisingly,
the aftermath will be just as perilous, with screenwriters John Kåre Raake and Harald Rosenløw-Eeg
borrowing pages from Titanic and The Poseidon Adventure. Water has an
inconvenient tendency to rise, doesn’t it? It general, The Wave is a slightly better than average disaster movie, but it
seems like it will do something awesomely dark and unexpected at the end, only
to cop out at the last moment, leaving the audience feeling manipulated.

Still, the fjord-bounded setting is
spectacularly cinematic and the well-known Norwegian cast is uniformly
competent and polished. As Kristian, Kristoffer Joner is a blandly likable
absent-minded everyman. Both kids are similarly serviceable, but it is Ane Dahl
Torp (so terrific in 1001 Grams) who
best stands out as their down-to-earth and tenacious mother.

There aren’t any
villains in The Wave, except maybe
Mother Nature. Even Eikfjord’s most cautious colleague always seems reasonable
(and eventually quite heroic). Isn’t that rather refreshingly Scandinavian?
While The Wave never transcends the
disaster genre, it observes the conventions in a highly watchable fashion.
Recommended for slightly more intimate natural catastrophe films, like The Perfect Storm and Hereafter, The Wave opens this Friday (3/4) in New York, at the Landmark
Sunshine.

Malick’s Knight of Cups

If you always suspected Hollywood was a den of
vice and degradation, you are about to be vindicated by no less an auteur than
Terrence Malick. His everyman screenwriter has been led astray by the hedonism
Tinsel Town offers. Malick riffs on Pilgrim’s
Progress, The Hymn of the Pearl, and Fellini’s 8½while searching for higher meaning in Knight of Cups (trailer here),which opens this Friday in New York.

The screenwriter’s name is “Rick,” but we only
know that from the closing credits. Not a lot of names get bandied about in Cups and dialogue is rather sparse in
general. Instead, we watch Rick’s life flash by in snippets better measured in
seconds than minutes. He is the Pilgrim or the “Son of the King of Kings,” who found
worldly success, but lost sight of his values. However, he has not forgotten
his family. In fact, they are another cross to bear. His relationship with his
devout but guilt-wracked father is strained, but reparable. Unfortunately, his
unstable brother Barry is apparently a lost soul. He will also have
relationships with a number of attractive women, but it is often hard to tell
when he moves onto someone new, because of Malick’s insistence on filming the
backs of characters’ heads.

Aesthetically, Cups might just be Malick’s most maddening film yet—and that is quite
a heavy statement. Yet, what is really frustrating is the extent to which he
undermines his own challenging ideas. This is not a sterile exercise in style
at the expense of substance. Malick is one of the very few filmmakers working
today who seriously grapples with issues of faith and an ostensibly disinterested
God in a serious, mature, and non-kneejerk manner. He most definitely does so
again in Cups.

In fact, the very best moments directly
explore man’s spiritual yearning. Making the most of his fleeting screen time,
Armin Mueller-Stahl delivers a shockingly powerful Christian apologia as Father
Zeitlinger. Likewise, the late Peter Matthiesson (essentially playing himself)
delivers a potent lesson in Zen Buddhism. “I can only teach you one thing: this
moment,” he tells Rick. Yet, instead of letting these significant moments
breathe, so we can properly digest them, Malick continues his MTV-style rapid
editing, moving to the next stage of Rick’s life, practically at the speed of
light.

Even though he is in most of the scenes,
Christian Bale perversely hardly gets a chance to do any acting. Malick’s
actors really have to make an impression quickly if they stand any chance of
standing out. In addition to the wonderful Mueller-Stahl and sage-like
Matthiesson, Brian Dennehy projects appropriate gravitas and poignant humility as
Rick’s father, Joseph (remember, that’s a Biblical name). It is also amusing to
watch Antonio Banderas essentially reprise his role from Nine under the persona of Tonio, the Hollywood playboy (he even
looks like he is wearing the same suit). Problematically, the women in Rick’s
life are almost used like props, but Cate Blanchett shows some forcefulness and
gumption as his ER doctor ex-wife, Nancy. Presumably, that is why it did not
work out between the two of them.

Cups could have possibly been a truly great film,
but Malick’s approach is way too unfettered in its Malickness. Even as its wise
men explicitly tell us to more fully live in the present, it hurtles ahead,
like a cheetah suffering from ADD. This is a shame, because there is wisdom
within its frames. Still, this is not a film that can be easily dismissed.
Indeed, it is quite an important work when viewed in dialogue with Malick’s
prior films, but as a discrete screening experience, it is bizarrely agitated
and off-putting. Viewers who really want to wrestle with a film will find their
match in Knight of Cups, but the more
conventional should probably take a pass. Still, even now it defies any
clear-cut rendering of judgment. For the auteur’s adventurous admirers, Knight of Cups opens this Friday (3/4)
in New York, at the Landmark Sunshine and AMC Loews Lincoln Square.

Sunday, February 28, 2016

Doc Fortnight ’16: Scrumped [Extended Version]

You would not say it about one of the world’s
largest and most militant religions (that shall remain nameless for fear of
reprisals), but the world would probably be a way more tranquil place if there
were more Buddhists. Yes, they have been pulled into conflicts in Southeast Asia,
but it has mostly been in response to the belligerence of a less tolerant
religion. You can practically see that commitment to peacefulness baked into
Buddhist customs and ceremonies. Seoungho Cho uses the form of Buddhist rituals
to meditate on its inner essence in the experimental short film, Scrumped [Extended Version] (trailer here), which screens as
part of the 2016 Doc Fortnight at MoMA.

Mostly, the Korean-born New York-based Cho
relies on the ambient sounds of worship recorded at the Haeinsa and Silsangsa
Temples in South Korea, but he occasionally also incorporates excerpts from
Gabriel Fauré’s Requiem, op. 48. Arguably,
it is not such a strange fit, considering the “High Church” vibe of Buddhist
chants (it is also worth noting the Japanese Catholic Church has forged
particularly close ties with their Buddhist counterparts).

Regardless, the first ten minutes or so of Scrumped look like Cho is feeling his
way, without a clear concept in place. However, when he starts editing footage
according to the rhythms of the ceremonial chanting, the film becomes a
transfixing experience. Mind, spirit, nature, and art all whirl together in a
microcosmic unity. The film’s aesthetic truly reflects the spiritual
transcendence of the worship it documents, which is rather remarkable.

Frankly, Scrumped becomes the sort of cinematic wonder
Samsarawas billed as, but fell short
of. It is entirely possible Cho’s shorter cut is sufficient, because the thirty
minute “Extended Version” has its share of filler up top, but the guts of the
film are absolutely engrossing. Although Cho professes to be a spiritual
non-believer, his respect and affinity for Zen-related Korean Seon Buddhism are
well evident. Highly recommended as an immersive and meditative experience, Scrumped screens again with Jacques
Perconte’s Ettrick tomorrow (2/29),
during this year’s Doc Fortnight at MoMA.

Saturday, February 27, 2016

Doc Fortnight ’16: Paths of the Soul

These Tibetan pilgrims have utterly nothing in
common with Chaucer’s. They will tell no bawdy stories and engage in absolutely
no untoward behavior. Their devotion is real, as is the danger they face while
making the 1,200 mile journey to Lhasa, straight down Tibet’s National Highway
318 in Zhang Yang’s docu-hybrid Paths of
the Soul (trailer here),
which screens as part of the 2016 Doc Fortnight at MoMA.

Nyima’s uncle Yang has always been a father
figure to him, so he readily agrees to accompany the patriarch when he resolves
to finally make his pilgrimage. Eventually, eleven members of the extended
family are chosen for the trek. Each will have their particular reasons for
joining, but all share a deep but unfussy belief in the tenets of Tibetan
Buddhism.

The pilgrimage is especially meaningful for
Uncle Yang, who always regrets his younger brother died before he could make
the journey he always talked about. In accordance with their selfless faith, Nyima’s
teenaged sons will be praying for the two laborers who died while constructing
their house. The presence of the pregnant Tsring initially seems completely baffling,
but the karmic benefits for her baby are apparently well worth the effort if
she delivers during the pilgrimage. Likewise, the ritual journey hardly looks
appropriate for the ten or eleven-ish Gyatso, but what she learns will last a
lifetime.

Spanish Catholics might think the pilgrimage
to Santiago de Compostela is a tough road to travel, but they have nothing on
Tibetan Buddhists. Yang and his family are not merely walking over two thousand
kilometers, with their tractor trailing behind. They must stop after every
three or four steps to kowtow. That entails complete prostration on the busy
mountain highway. To facilitate these regular acts of obeisance, they wear the
pilgrims’ clothes: full body aprons and hand-planks.

This is an absolutely grueling film, but also
a powerfully moving one. Yang and clan will endure inclement weather, rock
slides, and one auto accident. Yet, there is also hope and hospitality to be found
along the way. Throughout it all, their faith and their family cohesion are too
strong to even be tested. Watching them plug ahead is truly awe-inspiring. To
what extent the non-professional actors are playing themselves or namesake characters
hardly matters (either way, they are incredible), because the conditions they
endure are more than real enough. By the time they reach Lhasa, you hope to see
the Dalai Lama himself triumphantly swoop down on a giant golden eagle to
personally bless each one of them.

In all honesty, Paths of the Soul is one of the least
showiest, but most profound films about religious faith in action you might
ever see. The fact it was produced and approved for distribution in China is a
not so minor miracle. Perhaps the state censors were hoping the arduousness of
their journey would dissuade others from making similar Lhasa pilgrimages.
However, the dignity and purity of the pilgrims’ faith is unmistakable and
tremendously stirring. Very highly recommended, Paths of the Soul screens again today (2/27), as part of this year’s
Doc Fortnight at MoMA.

Friday, February 26, 2016

NYICFF ’16: April and the Extraordinary World

How would the world look if the Industrial
Revolution never happened and petroleum energy was never developed? Far, far
more environmentally ravaged than it is today. In this steampunky alternate universe,
that steam power comes from trees and there are not a lot of them left. How did
things get so bad? A mysterious agency has been abducting scientists, halting
progress in its tracks. April and her family are some of the few researchers
who have not disappeared or been pressed into the service of the House of Bonaparte
emperor, but not for long. April will have to go underground to carry on the
family research in Christian Desmares & Franck Ekinci’s April and the Extraordinary World (trailer here),which screens during the 2016 New York International Children’s Film Festival.

It all started with April (or Avril)’s great grandfather,
Gustave Franklin, but he will not last past the big bang at the beginning of
the picture. Her grandfather Prosper (a.k.a. Pops) and parents will continue
his research into an ultimate cure-all life-extension serum, but they must do
so off the steam-powered grid. Unfortunately, Inspector Pizoni’s raid goes bad,
leaving April a presumed orphan with only the family’s talking cat Darwin for
company. He was an early test subject, but instead of immortality, he developed
the power of speech, because that is how chemistry works.

Busted down in rank, Pizoni swears vengeance
against the Franklin family, but he is probably the least of their worries
given the wider mysteries in play. However, he manages to recruit a likable
parolee to worm his way into Franklin’s confidence. Of course, the smooth
talking Julius is in for considerably more than he bargained for, but the issue
of trust will loom large if these kids are ever going to develop a serious
relationship.

Even in today’s world of banal CGI wonders, it
would be a tall order the render the scope and detail of the Franklins’ ominous
steampunk world in a live-action tent-pole. Based on Jacques Tardi’s graphic
novel, Ekinci and co-adaptor Benjamin Legrand fully establish the complexities
of the alternate history. With the [un]timely death of Napoleon III, the
disastrous Franco-Prussian War is averted and the not so enlightened Bonapartes
remain on the Imperial throne. (On the plus side, the Paris Commune never happens
either, sparing the French its lingering ideological toxicity.)

It is pretty cool to see a film suitable for
family viewing reference the Franco-Prussian War and provide cameos for scores
of scientists, including Einstein and Fermi. Francophiles will also be
impressed by the big name French voice cast, including Marion Cotillard as Ap[v]ril,
Jean Rochefort as “Pops” Prosper (he’s terrific), Bouli Lanners as Pizoni, and
Oliver Gourmet as her father, Paul.

Stylistically,
Desmares & Ekinci’s animation evokes the clean lines of Tardi’s comic art,
but that allows them to render the steam engines and Belle Époque fashions and
monuments with crisp precision. Even in an animated film, the narrative stretches
believability, but the sophisticated world-building more than compensates.
Highly recommended for steampunk fans of all ages, April and the Extraordinary World screens this Sunday (2/28) and
next Saturday (3/5) at the SVA Theatre, as part of this year’s NYICFF, with a
regular theatrical release coming from GKIDS on March 25th.

Tricked: Paul Verhoeven Harnesses the Dutch Internet

Perhaps Paul Verhoeven should have used this
crowd-sourcing technique for Hollow Man.
It is far from fool-proof, but at least he could have avoided its creepy rapiness.
Instead, Verhoeven employed the distributed networking model for his hyped-up follow-up
to his triumphant Dutch homecoming film Black
Book. He started with four scripted minutes, relying on the internet to
provide the rest of Tricked (trailer here),which opens today in New York.

In four minutes, Kim van Kooten establishes
the eight main characters. The rest was crowd-sourced or “user-generated.” It
sounds pretty straight forward, but Verhoeven and his cast talk about it in
agonizing detail in the “making of” epk-ish film that screens ahead of the
fifty-five minute Tricked. From all
their talk of breakthroughs and innovations, you would think they were filming
the first soundie. Perhaps the only surprising revelation is the relatively
high quality of submissions. Verhoeven expected to lean on a handful of super-users,
but he had binders full of contributions that were under consideration.

So it took hundreds of Dutch viewers to tell
the tale of Remco, the philandering head of an architectural firm, who is under
pressure from his two partners to sell out to the Chinese. At the worst
possible time, Nadja, his former office hook-up returns from abroad with a
massive baby bump. That gives his wife Ineke all kinds of attitude, but his
current mistress Merel takes it more in stride. Since she is besties with Remco’s
boozy party-girl daughter Lieke, she is not about to get all dramatic and call
attention to their affair.

The fact that Tricked is a bit of a tonal mishmash really isn’t Verhoeven’s
fault, since he really had no idea where it was headed. Likewise, the cast is
also understandably tentative in the early going. Having no idea if their
characters are ultimately sympathetic or detestable, they had to keep their
options open. Frankly, the fact that it flows together as smoothly as it does
is quite impressive. In fact, plenty of credit is due to Verhoeven and editor
Job Ter Burg.

Veteran Dutch actor Peter Blok is appealingly
roguish as Remco and Gaite Jensen is quite dynamic and engaging as the
surprisingly proactive Merel. However, seven hundred Dutchmen should really
have their heads examined for making Remco’s slacker son Tobias into a
supposedly endearing antisocial pervert. Robert de Hoog does his best under the
circumstances, but his scenes courting Merel are face-palm worthy.

Given the nature of the project, most of the
blame for what does not work can also be distributed among hundreds of
contributors. The one glaring exception is Fons Merkies’ ghastly score.
Verhoeven and his cast put in a lot of work to make this gimmick look like
legitimate cinema, but the carnival-style music makes you expect to see twenty
or thirty clowns come piling out of a compact car.

Essentially, Tricked started out as an earnest
attempt at sexual intrigue, but became a parody of sudsy melodramas. The important
thing is it manages to be watchable in a less trainwreckish kind of way than
some of Verhoeven’s notorious films (Showgirls
anyone?). Recommended for the curious, Tricked
opens today (2/26) in New York at the Cinema Village and also launches
day-and-date on Fandor, but without the relentlessly self-congratulatory
behind-the-scenes video, therefore making it the preferred viewing alternative.

Thursday, February 25, 2016

A Slightly Strange Course of Events

To visit his father at work in a Haifa mall,
Shaul Tzimmer must first be wanded by security. It will soon be that way here
too. At least it hasn’t hurt business for Shimon Tzimmer’s employers. Apparently
they can still easily afford to pay him to putter about. He is delighted to see
his somewhat estranged son again, but he is about the only one who voluntarily opts
for the sourpuss’s company in Raphaël Nadjari’s
A Strange Course of Events (trailer here), which opens this
Friday in New York.

Shaul Tzimmer is a divorced father who is
stuck in a joyless job as a late-night hospital receptionist. The worst part
about his life is his full understanding of his loserishness. For some reason,
Tzimmer decides to visit the father he has not seen in years, even though he hardly
shows any desire to patch things up. Regardless, he is stuck going through the
motions when his father introduces him to his New Agey but age-appropriate girlfriend
Bati. Shaul does not have much to say to her, but he doesn’t have much charm
for anyone. Unfortunately, things will get even more awkward when a freak
accident lays Tzimmer up in Haifa.

It is a testament to the stringent reserve of Nadjari
and his co-screenwriter Geoffroy Grison that the modest conclusion feels
genuinely satisfying. I’m not saying this film is sleight of stature, but it
needs a paperweight to keep it from blowing away with the wind. Arguably, Jocelyn
Soubiran & Jean-Pierre Sluys’ distinctive, vaguely Middle Eastern-flavored sound
track does exactly that, supplying heft and flavor to the light-weight film.

In all fairness, Ori Pfeffer also deserves
tremendous credit for his weirdly engaging work as Tzimmer. He is painfully
standoffish, yet Pfeffer makes it clear he would like to be more sociable and
approachable, but he just does not have it in him. Moni Moshonov is also rock-solid
as Shimon Tzimmer, but Michela Eshet is unfortunately annoying as the batty
Bati.

It is rather rewarding
to watch a downbeat sad sack finally try to take charge of his life, but
Nadjari keeps the revelations ever so small and discreet. Frankly, the film
would be more aptly titled “A Mildly Diverting Series of Loosely Connected
Episodes.” Still, there is value to the work of Pfeffer and Soubiran &
Sluys. A Strange Course of Events is
a nice little film, but it is as unessential as it is unassuming. Safely
harmless, it opens tomorrow (2/26) in New York, at the Cinema Village.

Wednesday, February 24, 2016

Doc Fortnight ’16: France is Our Mother Country

If you could chose a country to be your
colonial power, there is no question it would be the United Kingdom. They sure
knew how to train civil servants. On the other hand, nobody would voluntarily opt
for France. Although they were not quite as bad as the Belgians, the French
have had the hardest time accepting the end of the colonial era, often with
tragic results. Rwanda certainly proved both points when it became the first non-UK
colony to join the British Commonwealth. It had been French. Rithy Panh echoes
that critical ambivalence towards the French colonial experience in his
archival docu-essay, France is Our Mother
Country (clip here), which
screens as part of the 2016 Doc Fortnight at MoMA.

Nothing screams “imperialist” like a white
suit and a pith helmet. Apparently, that was the uniform of choice for French
colonial oligarchs in Indochina. In his spliced together pseudo-narrative, Panh
captures plenty of similarly outfitted Frenchmen overseeing factory and
plantation work or getting drunk at garden parties. Their images have not aged
well, but that is why they are so on-point for Panh.

Essentially, the film’s arc can be summed up
as “they came, they exploited, and they left the land in political and military
chaos.” However, despite their damning fashion sense and the air-headed French
party girls cavorting on sacred religious sites, Mother Country never lowers the final coup de grâce. In fact, the footage of a 1920s or 1930s rain forest medical clinic
looks relatively progressive, especially for the times.

Panh has a shrewd eye for imagery, but he
never fully establishes a clear cause-and-effect chain of events linking the
French imperialist adventurism of the early Twentieth Century with the
Communist madness of the late Twentieth Century. He also indulges in the equivalent
of shooting fish in a barrel when quoting one of the era’s painfully virulent
racial theorists. Yet, Marc Marder nearly saves the day singlehandedly with his
distinctive, frequently jazz-influenced score.

Aside from Panh’s
subversive editorial sensibilities, there is not so much to take-away from Mother Country. It lacks the beauty,
grace, and anger of his Oscar-nominated masterwork The Missing Piece, but that is a hard film to be judged against.
Perhaps this represents a pragmatic strategy for a follow-up, precisely because
it is so different. Almost recommended solely for Marder’s themes (rather than
Panh’s), France is Our Mother Country is
mostly just grist for professional Third World Studies majors when it screens
again tonight (2/24) as part of this year’s Doc Fortnight at MoMA.

Tuesday, February 23, 2016

PIFF ’16: Man vs. Snake

There
was a time when video games got you out of the house and up on your feet. In
the 1980s, gaming was done in the arcades, requiring at least some level of
human contact. Some people remain nostalgic for old school video games and as
is often the case with gamers, a few are still prone to obsession. That could
very well be the case when the original Nibbler champion seeks to regain his
title. Tim Kinzy & Andre Seklir document his underdog pursuit of
retro-gaming glory in Man vs. Snake (trailer here), which screens
during the 2016 Portland International Film Festival.

It
might take you a while to remember Nibbler. It was sort of like Pac-Man, but it
featured a snake with an inconveniently growing tail rather than ghosts. It was
not exactly the most popular game in the arcade, but it was attractive to
competitive video-game players, because it offered the chance to score one
billion points. Tim McVey was the first documented player to reach that milestone.
That would be the other, nicer Tim McVey.

For
years, he assumed he was still the Nibbler champ, but he comes out of
retirement when he learns a player in Italy bested his score. However, he will
have competition from a younger player gunning for the title himself. It might
seem like a dubious quest, but his indulgent wife supports him. He also has the
old school video game establishment in his corner, including the media-savvy
Pac-Man champ Billy Mitchell.

Aside
from his understanding wife Tina, McVey sort of fits the gamer stereotype. He
is somewhat on the schlubby side, working a depressing job and going through
life with an unfortunate name. Yet, M vs.
S will challenge many of the viewers’ snarky prejudices. Walter Day, the
owner of the arcade where McVey set his original record and the leading arbiter
of competive arcade gaming is a case in point. Deeply steeped in eastern
philosophy, he turns out to have a lot more going on than Nibbler. Yet, they
all seem to be pulling for McVey for the same reason they did in the 1980s. He
just needs it more than his competition.

Like Wide
World of Sports, Kinzy & Seklir capture all the thrill of victory and
the agony of defeat. Frankly, it all gets pretty epic, but McVey’s earnestness
will completely win viewers over. You will come to understand how cruel the
snake can be and root for the underdog to have his day. Highly recommended as
eighties nostalgia and a sympathetic look at a small but ardent gaming
sub-community, Man vs. Snake screens
this Saturday night (2/27) during the Portland International Film Festival.

Doc Fortnight ’16: The Event

Who
lost Russia? To answer that question, Sergei Loznitsa harkens back to the day
it appeared to be won. In what remains his finest hour, Boris Yeltsin rallied
fellow Russians against the hardline Communists who had deposed Gorbachev in a
coup that came well after the people started to believe they could be free. In
the newly re-christened St. Petersburg, opposition to the coup was spearheaded
by the reformist mayor, Anatoly Sobchak, who is quite a tricky figure to take
stock of, considering he was Putin’s mentor, who would eventually die under suspicious
circumstances. There is both heady promise and strange flashes of foreboding in
Loznitsa’s boots-on-the-ground documentary The
Event (trailer
here),
which screens as part of the 2016 Doc Fortnight at MoMA.

The
images from Moscow are maybe more familiar to us, but the backdrop in St.
Petersburg could not be more perfect. That is indeed the Winter Palace. Since
the hardcore Communist coup-plotters had taken control of all media and
communications, information is spotty on the square. To convey a sense of their
confusion, Loznitsa periodically punctuates The
Event with extracts from Swan Lake,
the official soundtrack to internal Soviet strife, which the conspirators were
duly broadcasting, being creatures of habit.

When
addressing the crowd, Sobchak sure looks and sounds like a man of destiny.
However, if you see a weasely-looking aide in the background who looks like
Putin, it probably is. In fact, it is rather ironic to hear Sobchak rail against
the dangers of resurgent Stalinism in 1991, knowing he would later proclaim his
protégé to be the second coming of Stalin, as if that were a good thing.
(Ironically, he was right both times.)

The Event is a somewhat
demanding film that rewards viewers observant enough to pick up on little
details buried within the tableaux of mass demonstrations. Loznitsa does not
spoon-feed much to the audience, but he closes with a sharp reminder none of
the old regime’s crimes were never prosecuted. Clearly, he leaves us to wonder
just how discrete and firewalled the incoming government would be from the
former oppressive system.

Assembling black-and-white archival video that
evoke Eisenstein and newsreels of 1956 and 1968, The Event crackles with immediacy and uncertainty. In retrospect,
it is even harder to render judgments on Sobchak’s moment of destiny, but the
widespread anger at the Communist system still rings clear as a bell. Clearly,
when it comes to documenting broad-based demonstrations against neo- and retro-Soviet
oppression, Loznitsa is the man. Arguably, The
Event is not as immediate or immersive as Maidan, but it has a slyer, shrewder editorial sensibility. Highly
recommended, The Event screens again
tomorrow (2/24) as part of this year’s Doc Fortnight at MoMA.

Monday, February 22, 2016

Last Man on the Moon: One of Twelve Americans

It
now seems hard to believe given Russia’s current domination of space travel,
but the Soviets never landed on the Moon. Captain Eugene Cernan was the
eleventh man to walk on the lunar surface, but he was the last to leave. It is
a notable distinction, but one he would rather not hold indefinitely. Cernan
reflects on his career as an Apollo astronaut and offers some advice for the
future in Mark Craig’s The Last Man on
the Moon (trailer
here),
which opens this Friday in New York.

Like
all the best astronauts, Cernan had been a real deal Naval aviator before Deke
Slayton recruited him for the second wave of Apollo astronauts. It seems
everything you remember from The Right Stuff
was true. The Apollo astronauts worked hard, studied hard, and played hard.
Competition to be on each historic flight was fierce, but mostly collegial.
Cernan would know better than most. When budget cuts forced NASA to slash its
planned Moon expeditions in half, he found himself jockeying with Dick Gordon to
command the final Apollo 17.

As
you would expect, there are a number of terrific behind-the-scenes stories of
our nation’s space program. In addition to Cernan, Craig scored interviews with
his fellow astronauts, Alan Bean, Charlie Duke, Jim Lovell, and the still only
slightly disappointed Gordon, as well as legendary NASA flight director Gene
Kranz, and head of mission operations, Dr. Chris Kraft. Cernan’s current and
former wives also get to have their say, but he is always the first to admit he
neglected his family duties during the Apollo years.

The
now overlooked Gemini program also gets its due, particularly Gemini IX, which
Cernan still considers a troubling failure, but Kraft defends as a valuable
learning experience. Without question, Last
Man offers plenty for space program buffs, but Craig’s execution will pleasantly
surprise cineastes. He and cinematographer Tim Cragg capture some striking
visuals and he knows when to pull back to appreciate a quiet moment when it is
appropriate. Indeed, watching the somber Cernan walk through the ghostly former
Apollo launch site speaks volumes about the state of the current American space
program.

For
some reason Moon landing conspiracy theories are enjoying a spat of fringe
popularity, popping up in the dumb comedy Moonwalkersand Operation Avalanche, Matt
Johnson’s disappointing found footage follow-up to The Dirties. Last Man (co-executive
produced by racing legend Sir Jackie Stewart) arrives like a breath of fresh
air, celebrating the courage and adventurous spirit of the first and second
generation of NASA astronauts. It is also a timely wake-up call for renewing our
space-faring capabilities or be beholden to the Russian program for the
long-term. Highly recommended as both cinema and oral history, The Last Man on the Moon opens this
Friday (2/26) in New York, at the Cinema Village.

Kurosawa’s Ran

It
was a triumph interrupted by tragedy. Shooting was halted three times on Akira
Kurosawa’s monumental fusion of Shakespeare’s King Lear and the legend of feudal lord Mōri Motonari, due to the
deaths of his regular fight choreographer Ryu Kuze, his soundman since Stray Dog, Fumio Yanoguchi, and his wife
and sounding board, Yôko Yaguchi. Nevertheless, Kurosawa still finished the
film that would forever cement his reputation as one of the world’s greatest
filmmakers. Still as overwhelming as ever, the 4K restoration of Kurosawa’s final
straight-up masterpiece Ran(trailer here) opens this Friday in New York, at Film Forum.

During
the Sengoku Era, daughters were not allowed to inherit—hence, Lord Hidetora
Ichimonji’s three sons. His son Saburo loves him best, but the Daimyo cannot
see past the young man’s rash, impetuous behavior. Technically, Jiro is the
most Machiavellian of the brothers, but even he is no match for Taro’s wife, Lady
Kaede. She harbors a deeply-burning grudge against Lord Hidetora for slaughtering
her family after their arranged marriage. Ichimonji caught the clan of Jiro’s wife
Lady Sué similarly unaware, yet her profound Buddhist faith prevented her
suffering from corroding her spirit. Consequently, she is the only person who
inspires guilt in the old warlord.

Like
Lear, Ichimonji concludes he must abdicate and name his successor to insure long-term
stability. Of course, it will have the exact opposite effect. Although Saburo
is the most talented and worthy, Lord Hidetora names Taro instead.
Understanding the possible ramifications only too well, Lady Kaede spurs Taro
to consolidate and codify his new power. This deeply disappoints his father, who
finds himself essentially stripped of the emeritus status he had envisioned for
himself. War is inevitable and the carnage will be spectacular.

It
is almost impossible to recognize the iconically handsome Tatsuya Nakadai (the
all business cop in High and Lowand Mifune’s
very different adversaries in Yojimboand
Sanjuro) under all the make-up
transforming him into Ichimonji. Nevertheless, he vividly and poignantly expresses
Ichimonji’s increasingly erratic mental state. However, Mieko Harada upstages
everyone and everything as the ferocious Lady Kaede (an original character with
no analog in Lear or the tales of Mōri).
It is a huge ensemble, most of whom labor under dehumanizing circumstances, obscured
by rain, smoke, and helmets. However, Hisashi Igawa adds intriguing heft and
nuance as Jiro’s general, Kurogane, perhaps one of the film’s few characters
with principals.

Frankly, there will probably never be another motion
picture that devotes so much time and resources to filming battle scenes that
is not first and foremost a war movie. Ran
is high classical tragedy several times over, but it also features some
absolutely stunning scenes of Sixteenth Century warfighting. It is one of the
few films that lives up to and even surpasses its reputation as a career-capping
masterpiece. It is sort of incredible that Kurosawa was able look through a
camera lens again following the epic production of Ran, but did indeed make three more quite nice, but considerably
smaller films (including a contribution to a multi-director anthology). Very
highly recommended, the 4K restoration, in all its dazzling color, opens this
Friday (2/26) at Film Forum.

Sunday, February 21, 2016

Neerja: Courage in the Face of Terrorism

There
was a time when flying was a glamorous business. Neerja Bhanot brought a little
of that back. The part time fashion model was also a flight hostess for Pan Am
Airways. Tragically, her first flight as the head purser of her Bombay-based
crew was Pan Am 73. Its ultimate destination was New York’s JFK, but so-called “Palestinians”
in the Abu Nidal Organization hijacked the plane during its Karachi layover.
Thanks to Bhanot’s quick thinking, the terrorists would go no further, but that
placed her even more in harm’s way. Bhanot’s courageous story is stirringly
dramatized in Ram Madhvani’s Neerja(trailer here), which is now playing in New York.

Right
from the opening scene, can see Bhanot is the life of the party, as her friends
and family wait for her to arrive and inject some vigor into their snoozy
get-together. Even though she had made inroads into the glamorous world of modeling,
she still loved her job as a flight hostess. Life was pleasant for Bhanot, but
it was not always so. During her brief arranged marriage to Kishore Mishra, she
was constantly abused, both physically and emotionally. However, surviving his torments
gave her strength and insight for dealing with the Abu Nidal terrorists.

Disguised
in stolen uniforms, the would-be hijackers shot their way on-board during the
stopover in Karachi. However, Bhanot was able to alert the flight crew, who
duly followed procedure, evacuating through the cockpit emergency hatch. Being
stuck on the ground drastically changed the nature of the operation for the
Islamist hijackers. Hoping to regain some leverage, the terrorists instructed
Neerja to collect all passports so they could identify Americans. Again, Bhanot
foiled their schemes, instructing her crew to hide all American passports.
There were forty-one Americans on that flight but only two were murdered.

It
is pretty inspiring to watch Bhanot stand-up to the so-called “Palestinian”
mass murderers and strategically think two or three steps ahead of them.
Madhvani’s cross-cutting between the hijacking and Mishra’s misogynistic
cruelty runs the risk of heavy-handedness, but it establishes how she found the
resolution and presence-of-mind to undercut the hijacking and hostage
executions. Nevertheless, at the risk of being spoilery, those who are not
familiar with Bhanot’s story should not expect a happily-ever-after conclusion.

In
fact, Madhvani rather viscerally captures a sense of the horror and chaos when
the “Palestinian” terrorists open fire on the passengers. He also shows in no
uncertain terms what Islamists do best: hit women and point guns at young children.
You really start to understand the realities of terrorism in Neerja, up-close and personal. Yet,
thanks to Bhanot, there were only twenty fatalities out three hundred sixty-one
passengers and a crew of twenty.

Sonam
Kapoor not only looks a lot like the historical Bhanot. She also projects the
necessary courage, grace, and dignity. She is no martyr caricature. Kapoor’s
Bhanot often has to fight off panic and re-summon her courage. It is a forceful
but down to earth performance that emphasizes her empathy and resilience,
showing us just what a fighter Bhanot was.

Neerja is definitely the
sort of film that will choke up viewers, but when the lights go up and you
start to think about what happened on Pan Am 73, it will make you mad. When you
watch the national rage expressed in Kabir Khan’s Phantom, it is hard to blame India for resenting America’s refusal
to extradite Mubai 2008 terrorist David Headley. Yet, what can they expect when
they responded to the 1986 hijacking by officially recognizing the supposed
state of Palestine and continuing to send aid to the terrorist-dominated
Authority? That’s really showing the hijackers. At least there has been some
tilting towards the democratic state of Israel following the 2008 Mumbai
attack.

Regardless, Neerja
puts an acutely human face on the issue of terrorism. Kapoor does
awards-caliber work, as does Anna Ipe & Apparna Sud’s production design
team, which convincingly recreates the era’s analog airliner and retro-eighties
trappings. Madhvani is not shy when it comes to manipulating viewers, but he
keeps them focused like a laser beam, ever if they know how it all must end.
Highly recommended, Neerja is now
playing in New York at the AMC Empire.

Saturday, February 20, 2016

Kosovo’s First Oscar Nominee: Shok (Friend)

Most
Americans would be hard pressed to distinguish an Albanian from a Serbian, but
it is not a problem for the residents of a small Kosovar village. However, it
will become pretty clear for most viewers of Kosovo’s first Oscar nominated
film, simply through dramatic context. Two young Albanian boys will witness war
crimes and ethnic cleansing first hand during the Kosovo War in Jamie Donoughue’s
Shok(trailer here), which is currently
screening as part of the Academy Award nominated short film package now playing
at the IFC Center.

The
sight of an abandoned bicycle in the middle of the mountain highway brings it
all back for the adult Petrit. Through hard work and saving, his best friend
and fellow Albanian Oki has just bought a bike. Hoping to similarly purchase
two-wheeled mobility, Petrit has begun dealing with the Serbian paramilitaries
stationed outside of town. Petrit believes he can forge a profitable
relationship with Dragan, the commander, but Oki instinctively understands the
dangers inherent when one deals with the devil. Alas, his fears will be
vindicated when Dragan insists on appropriating Oki’s bike for his nephew.

Despite
what we might expect, Shok does not
abruptly end with the seizure of the prized bicycle. Instead, it launches a chain
of events that will greatly complicate the boys’ relationship, cutting far
deeper than any mere coming of age story. Innocence will not be the only thing
that dies in this memory play.

As
young Oki and Petrit, Andi Bajgora and Lum Veseli give extraordinarily poised
and disciplined performances. Thematically, the filmis as serious as it gets, but they carry it with sure hands, every
step of the way. Based on the experiences of producer-co-star Eshref Durmishi
(who ironically appears as Dragan), Shok is
a fully realized narrative that follows a highly eventful dramatic arc. This is
a film with a beginning, middle, and end that seamlessly establishes each beat,
all of which have a real point.

It is hard to imagine another short edging out Shok this year, but Academy voters often
seem to use the dartboard method to vote in the short film categories. (How
else can we explain Helium beating
out Just Before Losing Everything in
2014?) Regardless, Shok represents an
important milestone for Kosovar cinema and should be quite a career stepping
stone for Donoughue. Highly recommended, the twenty-one minute Shok is now screening as part of the
live action short film nominees at the IFC Center and is also available on
iTunes.

Friday, February 19, 2016

FCS ’16: No One’s Child

In
1988, a feral child literally raised by wolves had even less of an
understanding of the Balkan conflict than Bill Clinton (how did that whole arms
embargo thing work out again?), but he will be assigned his respective side just
the same. It is baffling to the boy and perverse to the viewer, but it is as
natural as gravity to the both the kids and adults around him. His belated
education and socialization will come with a bitter dose of irony in Vuk Ršumović’s
No One’s ChildThe Record Man(trailer here), which screens
during this year’s Film Comment Select.

Discovered
by Serbian hunters in central Bosnia, the boy who will be randomly named Haris Pucurica
as an acknowledgement of his presumed Bosnia ethnicity is taken to Belgrade for
their own convenience. Consigned to an orphanage, the uncommunicative Pucurica
is considered little more than an animal. Periodically, junior staffer Vaspitac
Ilke tries to reach the wild child, but only the somewhat older and cooler Zika
succeeds in breaking through Pucurica’s animalistic shell.

Unfortunately,
Zika’s own unstable family situation will cut short his friendship with Pucurica
as well as his courtship of the pretty Alisa. Unfortunately, Pucurica’s acclimation
to human society also comes with his first taste of human tragedy. As the years
pass and the War ignites, Bosnia will claim their presumed countryman, but Ilke
fears for the boy’s safety in the besieged nation.

We
know right from the start Pucurica will be better off with the wolves than
navigating the war. Still, Ršumović manages to make his points without
completely bashing viewers over the head. Frankly, No One’s Child, along with Mirjana Karanovic’s A Good Wiferepresent the hopeful stirrings of a revisionist trend
towards national self-examination in Serbian cinema. There is no way either
would ever be possible under the bitterly remembered Milosevic regime.

Denis
Murić is rather remarkable as Pucurica. He is indeed suitably wild when
necessary, but his performance is also acutely sensitive and surprisingly
disciplined. He really does not need language, because Murić has a knack for
displaying his inner feelings on his forehead. As Zika and Alisa, young and
charismatic Pavle Čemerikić and Isidora Janković show loads of future star
potential, but it is Miloš Timotijević who really keeps the film grounded as
the decent but not necessarily noble Ilke.

It is hard to miss the drastic change in tone
when a more-or-less gang of Bosnian-Serbs are admitted to the orphanage and
proceed to engage in wanton thuggery. It would be very healthy for the region
if No One’s Child were widely
screened and debated in the Srpska district, but it won’t be. Recommended for
those who appreciate tough-minded drama, No
One’s Child screens this coming Monday (2/22) as part of the current
edition of Film Comment Selects, now underway at the Walter Reade.

Thursday, February 18, 2016

FCS ’16: The Paternal House

Any
Iranian film with a history this torturous must talk some pretty serious truth
to power. Banned at home, Kianoush Ayyari’s family saga has been slow to roll
out international, due to the Islamist authorities’ bureaucratic foot-dragging
and finger-wagging. Somehow Ayyari convinced the Iranian State Police’s film
division to put up percent of the financing, but they were less than amused to subsequently
discover they had funded a story about an honor killing. In its way, it is also
a haunted house tale, but it is guilt and denial that torment Kabal’s clan
rather than a spirit. The sins of the past hang over successive generations in
Ayyari’s The Paternal House, which
screens as part of this year’s Film Comment Selects.

The
year is 1929, but it is very much like today when it comes to Islamist
attitudes towards women. The details will be forgotten, but for some reason Kabal
has resolved to kill his daughter for supposedly dishonoring the family. He
will recruit her ten year old brother Motashahn to help bash her skull in and
bury her under the cobblestones of their backroom. Although the outraged uncle
is now duly satisfied, Kabal’s wife Masumeh is suspicious of the cover story.
However, it is not until 1946 that she learn the full truth, with dire
consequences.

As
Motashahn ages from ten to eighty-five, he will continually witness the bad
karma rain down on his family as a result of his crimes. Matches will be
broken, resentments will fester, and their business will suffer. Yet, he keeps
scrambling to maintain the cover-up, while clinging to his twisted notion of
honor.

Frankly,
it is perversely spectacular to watch the plague of misfortunates visited on
Kabal’s clan. There is a grim logic to it all that is profoundly compelling. It
is deeper than just history repeating itself and the sons bearing the sins of
the father, but those truisms most definitely apply in full force.

Even
though the workshop in question and the adjoining courtyard are relatively
spacious, Ayyari creates an unsettlingly claustrophobic atmosphere. The vibe is
unrelentingly tense, but also acutely tragic. Basically, the ancestral home
become a nest of vipers for which the patriarch has no one to blame but
himself.

Obviously,
this is bold stuff in Iran, approaching the outright radioactive. However, a
number of prominent screen actors lent their talents to the controversial
project. They are all quite believable as a family, albeit a severely
dysfunctional one. Yet, perhaps none is more uncomfortably poignant than Shahab
Hosseini as the grown 1990s grandson, who is two generations removed from the
murder, but it still hopelessly mired in its consequences.

You know what they say about karma? Ayyari
confirms it once again, in spades. It is not pretty to watch, but you will not
be able to look away. This is drama with a purpose, executed with passion and
skill. Very highly recommended, The
Paternal House screens this Saturday (2/20) at the Walter Reade as part of
Film Comment Selects and on May 6th at NYU’s Hagop Kevorkian Center
as part of the Rethinking Iranian Cinema series.

Big Sky ’16: The Record Man

With
the passage of time, you might be ready now to admit you own some of the
records produced by Henry Stone—maybe a lot of them. Initially, he mostly oversaw
R&B sessions, but he enjoyed spectacular but brief success as the original
disco producer. When times were good they were booming, but the bust came on
hard and fast. The late, great Stone looks back on his colorful career in Mark
Moormann’s The Record Man(trailer here), which screens
during the 2016 Big Sky Documentary Film Festival.

After
serving in an Army band that included the likes of Sy Oliver and Jimmy
Lunceford, Stone made some hard, levelheaded choices as a good but not great
trumpet player. He opted to move over to the business side of the music
industry, a decision his future right-hand man, almost teen idol Steve Alaimo
would also make. At one point, he sold platters out of the trunk of his cars
(earning the nick name “Record Man”), but he quickly moved into distribution
and production at a more professional level.

Stone
ran an appealingly loose ship at TK Records, where eager kids like Harry Wayne
“KC” Casey and Richard Finch could fool around in the studio after finishing
their gopher work. Eventually, their collaborations blossomed into KC and the
Sunshine Band. It took them a bit of time to catch on, but when they did, Stone
was practically minting money, at least until the phrase “disco sucks” entered
the public consciousness.

Through
Stone’s reminiscences, Moormann gives viewers a pretty robust history of disco.
Maybe you knew George McCrae’s “Rock Your Baby” is considered the very first
disco record ever, if you are a dedicated aficionado. However, the professional
rivalry he developed with his wife and fellow TK recording artist Gwen McRae
could be the basis of its own film.

Moormann
scored interviews with most of the surviving TK artists (including Casey,
George McRae, Timmy Thomas, Benny Lattimore, and the smooth-jazzish Bobby
Caldwell) who describe Stone as old school, in mostly a fun to be around, only slightly
roguish way. There is also a third act triumph-over-adversity angle to the film
that sort of hides in plain sight from the audience during Stone’s initial
on-camera appearances. There are also some real world music business survival
tips to be gleaned from his experiences, like always be leery when a cat like
Morris Levy calls.

For
the most part though, Record Man is a
lot of breezy, nostalgic fun, even if you are not a huge disco fan. Highly recommended
as a slice of American cultural history, The
Record Man screens this Saturday (2/20) and Sunday (2/21) as part of the
Big Sky Documentary Film Festival and the following Sunday, Monday, and
Wednesday (2/28, 2/29, 3/2) at the Washington Jewish Film Festival.

Wednesday, February 17, 2016

WFA ’16: The Real Miyagi

It
is no secret why Fumio Demura is so popular. He used to kick the stuffing out
of Steven Seagal at the Japanese Deer Park. Technically, they were only karate
demonstrations, but they were unusually realistic. He certainly made an
impression that he shrewdly cultivated. The beloved sensei deservedly gets the
star treatment in Kevin Derek’s documentary profile The Real Miyagi (trailer here), which screens during the 2016 Winter Film Awards in New York.

It
wasn’t just Seagal who learned from Demura. Chuck Norris and Bruce Lee also picked
up a few moves from the master. He came to Los Angeles with $300, a suitcase,
and a spotty grasp of English (at best). He also knew karate. At the time,
there was not a crying demand for martial arts instruction in America, but
Demura built up a following performing at the now defunct Japanese cultural
theme park outside of LA. When that closed (it was a more controversial
dissolution than Derek has time to deal with), Vegas came calling.

Eventually,
Demura built up an international chain of dojos. He also amassed an impressive
list of movie stunt credits. However, his most significant work would indeed be
doubling Pat Morita in the original Karate
Kid. It would lead to a lifelong friendship with the Oscar nominated actor.
Basically, Demura is like a Horatio Alger hero with a black belt, but after a
year of filming, a potentially tragic turn threatens to end Derek’s film on a
downbeat note.

Regardless
of Demura’s ultimate fate, Derek more than convinces us the sensei is the real
deal, who has almost single-handedly reshaped how Americans think of karate
specifically and martial arts in general. Of course, he has help from an
all-star cast of interview subjects, including Seagal, Dolph Lungren, Michael
Jai White, Tamlyn Tomita, Billy Banks, John G. Avildsen, and Isaac Florentine. It
is also a potent reminder of how significant Morita’s Academy Award nominated
performance was at the time. Frankly, without Demura, it is hard to envision
careers for Seagal, Lungren, White, Scott Adkins, or Gary Daniels.

There are indeed many applicable lessons from
Demura’s success, such as the shrewd way he cultivated coverage in Black Belt magazine. However, the talent
was always there. He is also a hugely charismatic figure, so it is pleasant to
spend the screen time with him. Warmly recommended for fans of martial art
cinema, The Real Miyagi screens this
Saturday night (2/20) as part of this year’s Winter Film Awards.

Forsaken: Father and Son Sutherlands Play Father and Son

John
Henry Clayton is a preacher’s son with three first names, so he must be good at
killing. He is also a machine when it comes to clearing brush. He will try to
lay down his pistols and immerse himself in the latter, but his former life
will not let him be in Jon Cassar’s Forsaken
(trailer
here),
which opens this Friday in New York.

Clayton
did not even know his mother had died, so his unexpected homecoming is even
more awkward. He had not been seen in the small Wyoming community since he left
to fight for the Union. Unfortunately, war changes a man, especially at places
like Shiloh. While Clayton is sketchy on the details, somehow he was subsequently
caught up in a life of gunslinging. In fact, Clayton achieved such a level of notoriety,
he constantly had to deal with ill-advised glory-seekers looking to make their
name by taking him down.

It
takes Clayton about thirty seconds to figure out there is more amiss in his old
home town than the Reverend’s cold shoulder. James McCurdy has openly been harassing
the hardscrabble homesteaders to sell-out to him on advantageous terms. Dave
Turner, McCurdy’s smooth talking hired gun prefers to keep Clayton on the
sidelines, but Pickard, the rabid dog enforcer is determined to provoke and
humiliate the reformed gun fighter at every opportunity. Discovering his old
flame Mary Alice Watson is now a married mother is also a bit of a downer for
Clayton. Obviously, this turning the other cheek cannot continue indefinitely.
The question is how much damage will Pickard do before Clayton resigns himself
to the inevitable?

Forsaken is a refreshingly straightforward
western that makes no apologies for observing genre conventions. Donald and
Kiefer Sutherland are certainly believable as Clayton Père and Fils. Although
they have worked together several times in the past, this is their first time playing
on-screen father and son. If you get a sense of the tortured Jack Bauer trying
to go straight in John Henry that also rather figures. The Malta-born Cassar
previously directed Sutherland for fifty-nine hours of 24 (where every second counted). In this case, that familiarity resulted
in an appropriately flinty and gritty performance.

Demi
Moore is perfectly fine as Watson and Brian Cox chews plenty of villainous
scenery as McCurdy. However, Michael Wincott (24: Live Another Day) steals scene after scene as the moral
ambiguous, slyly charismatic Turner. Dylan Smith (a.k.a. Eddie the Sleeping Walking Cannibal) also makes an impression as the mean-as-a-snake henchman
Little Ned.

Screenwriter Brad Mirman deserves credit for a pitch
perfect ending that should leave western fans fully satisfied for a change.
Unlike recent murky, self-loathing westerns like Diabloand Angels and Outlaws
(at Sundance), Forsaken rides
into town with a purpose and it doesn’t leave until it has taken care of
business. Recommended pretty enthusiastically, Forsaken opens this Friday (2/19) in New York, at the Cinema
Village.

J.B. Spins

About Me

J.B. (Joe Bendel) works in the book publishing industry, and also teaches jazz survey courses at NYU's School of Continuing and Professional Studies. He has written jazz articles for publications which would be appalled by his political affiliation. He also coordinated instrument donations for displaced musicians on a volunteer basis for the Jazz Foundation of America during the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. Send e-mail to: jb.feedback "at" yahoo "dot" com.